Empty Yet Full

Empty . . .

An apt description of the house when the last one leaves after a holiday. Can you relate? No bags stashed here and there. No toys to trip over. No sippy cups in the kitchen sink. No crowded bathroom counters and towel racks. No half-open suitcases. No scattered shoes and boots in the breezeway. No extra cars in the driveway.

And more obvious, no adult children and grandchildren gathered around, playing games, laughing, or eating around the table. All may be calm and bright, but as the emptiness echoes its stillness, I feel the loss.

At the same time, my heart is full . . . full of memories. Talking until 2 a.m. the night my college-age daughter flew in. More hours of talking, talking, talking. Shopping at Kohl's because her internship is right around the corner. Listening to her play the piano and sing. Welcoming the older girls and their families. Catching up. Cuddling a two-month-old and seeing his wide smiles for the first time. Reading stories. Singing carols by a crackling fire. Taking my oldest grandson to see The Nutcracker the day after Christmas. Enjoying a roast beef Christmas dinner, along with my dad and a friend. Playing Jenga. Sharing gifts and stories. Missing those no longer with us.

One family came on Sunday the 23rd and left the very next day due to our three-year-old's bout with vomiting and diarrhea. After a hurried gift opening, we all had tears in our eyes when they pulled away to try to get home, mommy and bucket in the back seat just in case.

Today, I said my last good-bye of the season. Our youngest drove off in her daddy's 2005 Corolla, new wiper blades in place, EZ Pass transponder and GPS attached to the windshield and, just to make me feel better, a few maps tucked in the passenger door pocket. Since 2015, I've babied this car . . . inspections, tires, maintenance . . . because I knew this day was coming, the day when she would drive it back to school in the mid-west. Barry would be proud of her (and all of them) if he were here. 

After a good cry, I got busy. Putting things in order has always been my way of coping. Does it ever get easier? 

As I mopped the bathroom floor and folded towels, I thought about what happened after Mary's encounter with Gabriel. Luke 1:39 tells us, "In those days Mary arose and went with haste into the hill country, to a town in Judah" to visit Zachariah and Elizabeth. Although the Bible doesn't mention Mary's mother, I couldn't help but wonder how she felt when Mary said a hasty good-bye to take a 70-mile trip. Did concern for her daughter's well-being and safety occupy her thoughts? Did she wake up to pray in the dark of the night? 

Somehow this ancient un-named mother gave me courage as I said my own good-byes today. She invested years sharing biblical truth and practical knowledge, then moved out of the way to allow her daughter to follow God's leading. In the same way, I want to be supportive of all three of my daughters. I hope we've given them roots. Now it's time to give them wings (and wheels!). 

Empty? Yes, but with a heart full of thanksgiving and anticipation in a brand new year. 

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Feeling the Let-Down

The back door swung open as I slid the key back out of the lock. I breathed in the familiar, almost  comforting, scent of the house as I crossed the threshold and took a look around. 

Home again. 

Not the home of days gone by, filled with children's jostling laughter, school project deadlines, and piano practice. Instead, in moments like these, the walls seem to speak the memories in quiet whispers, mere echoes of those busy days . . . all the more dear to me now. 

Part of me is grateful for the silence after a somewhat hectic week of playing with small grand-boys, cuddling a new-born, cooking for a crowd, savoring laughter and conversation with my daughters, son-in-law, and even some new friends, trying to sleep in a strange bed, and driving miles to and fro. Good times. Yet, a part of me grieves. As I put things away, the stillness serves as an ever-present reminder of how life has changed. Time has slipped through my fingers, as time is prone to do . . . 

And yet, I come home to more than silence, for I somehow bring my children's concerns with me. I carry their uncertainties, their fears, their everyday challenges. With intention, I recall our late-night conversations and their whispered what-ifs . . . our acknowledgment that control is an illusion and there are few guarantees and that our only hope is trust in a great big God who lovingly writes our life stories with purpose, even when it makes little sense to us now. I treasure these conversations. Both their concerns and victories matter to me.

I am their mother, after all.

Can you relate?

I've grown to appreciate the practice of Job, who brought each of his ten children before the Lord in prayer on a regular basis (Job 1:4-5). Although not a parent in the physical sense, Paul wrote about the deep concern he felt for all the churches, i.e. his spiritual children (2 Corinthians 11:28). Another first century Christ-follower, Epaphras, wrestled on behalf of the early believers in his prayers, that they would "stand mature and fully assured in all the will of God" (Colossians 4:12). 

We're not alone in our care for the circle God has entrusted to us. Yet, I find a bit of tension between concern for others and focusing on what God has given me to do. These three questions help me better sort it out: 

• What is my role? 
• What role do others play? 
• What is God's role?

So, what is my role? To daily (and often) bring each one to the throne of grace (Hebrews 4:16), to cheer them on, to initiate as appropriate, to be available . . . to love them as only a parent can . . . and to believe in them.

As I stow my suitcase in its usual place in the attic, I find myself turning a proverbial corner, focusing on getting back to normal . . . at least for the few days before the calendar beckons me to deck the halls and my Christmas gift list pushes me out the door. I am grateful for the gift of family, of community, and of a faithful God who always plays His role perfectly - both when I'm away and when the stillness welcomes me home. 

When Someone's Watching You . . .

Have you ever had a strange feeling that you're being watched? It feels almost creepy and you hesitate to look around, for fear of who you'll find with their eyes fixed in your direction. Or maybe you worry that someone's stalking you, following your every move.

At other times, you and I may think there's not a soul in the world who has a clue where we are, what we're doing, or what we're thinking. We feel lonely and vulnerable. Often we've worked so hard, yet feel like we're running in place instead of making headway. We wish someone--anyone--would look our way to lend us a hand or to give us even a smile.

I found myself reading Mark 6 this week. After Jesus fed 5000 families with a little boy's lunch (verses 30-44), Jesus encouraged his disciples to get into a boat and go to the other side of the lake. Easy enough . . . until an antagonizing wind came up, pushing against their efforts to reach their destination. 

And [Jesus] saw that they were making headway painfully ("straining at the oars" NIV), for the wind was against them. And about the fourth watch of the night he came to them, walking on the sea. . . . He spoke to them and said, "Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid." And he got into the boat with them, and the wind ceased. And they were utterly astounded . . ." (verses, 48-51, emphases added).

I read the story over and over as the words washed over my weary mind. Jesus watches us when we are "making headway painfully." He understands the obstacles that impede our progress in our service. He offers us courage by His presence. He gets into the boat with us in the middle of our tough situations. He offers us an inner stillness despite the raging winds around us. And sometimes He calms our circumstances.

So, if you feel like you're being watched, you are! The Lord Himself has His eyes on us. He understands our struggles and our frustrations. He comes to us, right where we live. He speaks truth to us and gets into the boat with us, all the while reassuring us with the words, "Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid."

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This weekend, I had the privilege of sharing our story at Williamson Bible Baptist Church in New York State. Despite the chilly temperatures, we had a warm time together as we talked about THE STORY OF YOUR LIFE. Special thanks for your wonderful hospitality. I loved connecting with old friends and making new friends as well.

I promised you a link that summarizes our identity in Christ. This is just one of many online.

http://synergystrategies.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/02/I-AM.pdf 

Blessings to you all as you "run with endurance the race marked out for you, looking to Jesus. Consider Him . . . so that you may not grow weary or fainthearted."

First two photos from bing.com

Deep, Hidden Spaces

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP  BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP . . .

The annoying sounds coming from my stove would not be ignored. I had just slipped Sunday night dinner into the oven for my dad and me when the incessant beeps began. I eyed the ERROR message staring back at me from the digital panel and instinctively hit the STOP/CLEAR button. Nothing happened. I frantically pressed every button on the panel. The oven didn't turn off and seemed to be getting hotter and hotter. The beeps continued. Loud. Unrelenting. Do-something-now insistent. 

I grabbed the owner's manual and flipped through the trouble-shooting pages. No answers, just an 800 number to call, which I did, thinking the help line could answer my dilemma. But the lady who answered only scheduled appointments for a repairman to come. Would Wednesday be okay? Wednesday? Three whole days away? Hardly a solution.

I finally found the sense to do what I should have done in the first place. Unplug the stove. Maybe large appliances are like cell phones. Just unplug them and plug them back in and hopefully they reset themselves. Fortunately for me, my dad arrived and between the two of us we pulled out the stove. Ah-ha! The plug had worked itself halfway out of the receptacle. I climbed down into the small space and pushed it in all the way. BEEP, BEEP, BEEP. It was only after I unplugged it and then plugged it back in that the beeping stopped. Whew!

But as I began to back out of the hole, I couldn't believe what I saw. Gunk had dripped down between the sides of the stove and the cupboards. Glass shards, crumbs, and a dried spill dirtied the floor. Ugh. Dad and I set to work, scrubbing and cleaning it all up. How long had it been since the stove was pulled out?

How many times have you been shocked by your own messes, especially if you're a pretty good housekeeper? Do we pay more attention to the things we and others can see? Maybe that's why it's necessary to take the time to do some deep cleaning now and then.

Later that week I ran across this quote by Oswald Chambers: "We can only be used by God after we allow Him to show us the deep, hidden areas of our own character."

Deep, hidden areas . . . like my stove space . . .

Deep hidden areas . . . like my heart . . .

How many times have you been shocked by your own messes, especially if you're a pretty good Christian? Do we pay more attention to what we and others can see? Maybe that's why it's necessary to take the time on a daily basis to pray, "Search me [thoroughly], O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there is any wicked or hurtful way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting (Psalm 139:23, 24 AMPC).

And just like my dad, our heavenly Father is always ready and able to clean us all up.


*Photos from bing.com/images

  

Lessons From the Let-Down

I sank into my favorite chair and took a deep breath. 

Photo by Julie Manwarren

What a week it had been! My sister flew in from Indiana. Two of my daughters and their little sons came in for the weekend. My book signing turned out to be a wonderful time of greeting friends from the community and area churches, some closely associated with my late husband, Barry. They came and they stayed, coffee in hand, seizing the opportunity to catch up with old friends and meet new ones. Afterward, the family gathered around my dining room table to sip soup and recount God's blessings as many took our story home with them that day. 

Photo by Julie Manwarren

On Monday evening, my sister, and I enjoyed our dad's famous chili, and together, watched old slides, once again hearing his navy stories and enjoying poses of us as little girls with very young parents. The next couple days we shared meals, raked up leaves (Dad's and mine), and enjoyed just being together until Wednesday evening, when Barb boarded a plane heading west and I led a Bible study on Chapters 11-14 of my book. 

On Thursday, I fulfilled my time in the dentist chair, ran to the Ronald McDonald House to present them with a check (proceeds from the book signing) and a copy of Penned Without Ink for their library . . .  then finally found my chair.

Whew!

But I don't do let-downs well. 

By Sunday evening, my eyes were "gunky" (as my mother used to say), bloodshot, watery, swollen, and irritated with bags underneath. An uninvited case of conjunctivitis brought my go-go-go pace to a screeching halt. The side effects from the drops reduced me to sitting alone in my living room with the shades drawn, wearing sunglasses, and squinting to try to read blurry texts from my girls. 

Google Images

A let-down, indeed!

But in spite of all this, I wanted to listen . . . to listen to the still, small voice that often whispers truth at times like this. Here's what I hope to take away from this experience:

• An even greater appreciation for Barry, whose eye issues never left him after the car crash. Again I remembered 2 Corinthians 4:18: "The things that are visible are temporal (brief and fleeting), but the things that are invisible are deathless and everlasting" (AMPC).
• An increased sensitivity to those who suffer illness alone, who can't drive themselves to pick up what they need, who don't have someone present to talk things through.
• An awareness that perhaps my life should include a little more down time. It's been a hectic eighteen months since Barry passed away. Maybe I need to make time to finish a quilt, read more, and have friends in more often.
• A renewed realization of the fragility of life. James 4:13-16 came to mind, especially verse 15: "If the Lord is willing, we shall live and do this or that." All it takes is pink eye or some other where-did-this-come-from ailment. Or rolling fog. Or any number of "unexpecteds," and we again realize God's sovereign control and our human frailty.
• A sense of comfort, knowing that God regards me with compassion, and nothing - not even my contagious eyes - could separate me from His love and grace (Romans 8:38, 39).

The meds are doing their jobs well. I am much better and oh-so-grateful to be on the other end of this week. 

So, when you're on the downside of a let-down, remember to listen for the whispers from the God who cares about all that happens to us.

 

Change What?

I've spent the last week editing . . . editing my own personal experience story.

I pored over news reports, medical records, and books. I dusted off journals and found the box of cards, letters, emails, and photos. I let my mind wander down hospital hallways, beside hushed, uncertain bedsides, and into the busy rooms of rehab centers. Once again, I looked into the misty eyes of my children. I remembered, with gratitude and guilt, how they and others cared for me and my husband over many months. I pondered multiple memories that poured over me in vivid color.



bing.com

At my keyboard, I added important elements and deleted insignificant or inaccurate details. I made a change here, a clarification there. I want every page to be as close to the truth as possible without deleting the heart and soul of the story.

My life's a little like my manuscript. I need a little editing now and again. A change here, an addition there. A different focus or way of relating to the people I love. I want to live as close to the truth as possible without deleting the heartbeat of who God is shaping me to become.

Can you relate?

bing.com

Just as I've been studying primary sources to write about our experience, we need a point of reference for our lives. There's value in poring over the gospels, dusting off our journals filled with struggles and blessings, finding the box of encouragement and wisdom. Sometimes we need to take time to let our minds wander down the hallways of our hearts and once again look into the eyes of those who believe in us, want us to succeed . . . and pray for us. As we ponder the sacred echoes of truth, may we allow the Master Writer to edit our days. Even a few small changes from His hand can transform us and give us hope.

 

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

St Francis of Assisi 

  


   

   

Do Unseen Forces Tinker with Technology?

Most of last week, our internet didn't work - and since our phone depends on the internet for incoming and outgoing calls, let's just say I felt a little cut off from the world. Well, at least my world.

So, when my daughter needed to go to the library to do her homework, I took my laptop with me. Easy enough. But, for some reason, I couldn't pick up the wireless. And I had a deadline to meet in a matter of hours. I hurried home to pick up a jump drive, saved the two devotionals on it, and my daughter kindly saved them onto her computer. We got them out in time! Teenagers can be wonderful.

I did a little thinking over the quiet "technology-less" week. How dependent on the World Wide Web was I, really? Social media and email are important to a writer. We are supposed to log in, post, read, leave comments, and interact online. But my growing annoyance and frustration with the long wait seemed to be telling me something. Or asking the question, "Can I find a better balance in all this?"

During my "week off," I organized my office, wrote and mailed a few notes (using paper), and did some baking. I also took some time to read and jot down a few quotes from a book someone loaned me: Captivating: Unveiling the Mystery of a Woman's Soul by John and Stasi Eldredge. Have you read it? I needed time to digest the ideas on femininity and found myself grateful for the stillness . . . still mulling it over, by the way . . .

Now we're back online. We have a dial tone on our house phone. My son-in-law patiently pushed a tiny hidden switch on my computer, and we installed our new passwords.

So, what do you think? Do demons tinker with technology? Some days it may seem like a plausible explanation. Or maybe, just maybe it's angels who mix up the wires . . . to help us see beyond the here and now, beyond the visible urgent to the invisible important.